


empty chairs at empty tables

by rhys



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Multi, and even the Inquisitor needs a good dose of embarrassment once in a while, i love harassing poor josie, i'm utterly in love with cassandra, you'd think she'd know by now to be honest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 10:31:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2847758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhys/pseuds/rhys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cassandra let out a thoughtful noise, and Lavellan froze like a halla startled awake in the dead of night, turning large eyes on the Seeker. She wondered if she would survive hurtling herself out of Josephine’s office window. The elf gave herself about a fifty-fifty chance. Worth it. Yes, definitely worth taking the chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	empty chairs at empty tables

**Author's Note:**

> prompt-fill for dragon age prompts over at my blog. this one was "Surprises at the War Table." Enjoy!

"This cannot continue like this, Inquisitor! It’s the fifth time this month and just because no one is in the room does not mean no one can hear those dreadful  _noises!_ ”  
  
Poor, poor Josie. She was fit to be tied, Lavellan thought, physically repressing her smile with a long-fingered hand by pressing the pads to her lips in what she hoped looked more ‘thoughtful’ and less ‘I love you but I’m enjoying this suffering at your expense.’ Tucking a pale lock behind one ear, the elf opened her mouth to offer something placating, when there was another very loud,  _very_ distinctly qunari grunt and a gleeful laugh in a lighter, warmer timbre. Quickly following there was a sudden ‘ _crack!’_ that sounded very much like wood snapping. Lavellan could physically  _see_ Josephine’s blood pressure rising, her ire cracking through the gentle veil of careful diplomacy that usually shrouded all of her interactions. Frantic whispers burst forth- “That table’s wood is priceless, imported from Antiva, I swear upon the Maker, if those two disasters have so much as scratched the finish…”  
  
A sound of reluctant mirth, quickly stifled, burst forth from behind Lavellan. Instead of turning, she simply leaned her head back, just catching the tail-end of Cullen’s rapidly masked smirk as he struggled to disguise it. Cassandra stood a few feet to his left, listening to the noises with a patented look of elegant and utter disgust, while Leliana was smiling with unbridled amusement below the shade of her hood, not even bothering to try and hide her delight at seeing her good friend crack just a  _little._  Josephine had called them all here to discuss a Venatori attack on one of the Inquisition holding camps in the Emprise. It turned out they had, once again, interrupted the  _activities_ of one very enthusiastic qunari mercenary captain and potentially the only person who was more excited about all of this than said qunari, loathe as he would normally be to admit it.   
  
"In their defense, Josie… It is a rather spacious table," Leliana said softly, her voice completely even and flat and expression once again deadpan. Lavellan couldn’t deny the sharp laugh that spilled from her lips and she covered her face with her hands, trying to compose herself. The Dalish didn’t exactly have the same standards of modesty as humans tended to- one couldn’t afford to, living so close to ones kin and having very limited bathing space- and she had no issue with having to break up the pair _,_ once again, should she need to. Yet the Inquisitor was having trouble passing up the opportunity to tease.   
  
"Maybe we should just give them the War Table for their chambers instead of a bed,  _lethallan._ They do seem rather fond of it,” She suggested reasonably, and the moment the words left her lips, she expected a rapid riposte, but it came from an unexpected party. Cassandra let out a thoughtful noise and Lavellan froze like a halla startled awake in the dead of night, turning large eyes on the Seeker.

Her dark eyes were gleaming with a very particular look that usually meant Lavellan was in for  _something._ She recognized it as the look one of her elder sisters back in the clan, Aria’le, used to turn on her whenever one of her gentle pranks backfired. Lavellan wondered if she would survive hurtling herself out of Josephine’s office window. She gave herself about a fifty-fifty chance. Worth it. Yes, definitely worth taking the chance.   
  
 _”_ And perhaps,” The Seeker suggested in a low rumble before the Inquisitor could move an inch, accent curving melodically around each syllable. “By such standards, we should put the Commander’s desk in your chambers, Inquisitor.”   
  
It was fascinating for Cassandra, doing her best to keep her smirk limited to her eyes, to see how both Cullen and Lavellan- despite the Inquisitor’s significantly darker skin- managed to instantly turn the shade of vibrant and violent pink.   
  
Were it under different circumstances, Lavellan would have relished the look of horror her ambassador turned on her- Josephine had, after all, just the previous night been meeting with Cullen in his office to discuss Skyhold’s supply levels. As it was she bolted forward and armed herself with a pile of missives from Josephine’s desk, rolling them into a tube and taking off towards the War Room. The giant doors creaked as shoved them open, waving the rolled-up parchment at the tangled Bull and Dorian as if they were they were wayward mabari pups scrapping with each other. “Time’s up, boys!” She said, her voice just a  _bit_  too loud.  
  
She could feel the tips of her ears burning as her keen elven hearing allowed her to hear Josephine’s soft, shocked murmur.   
  
"Never. I am never sitting at a table in this hold again."   
  
—-  
  
Three nights later, Lavellan was curled in a chair at one of the giant feasting tables next to Josephine’s office door, head tilted as she read through the newest pledges of noble support. The Great Hall was quiet, nearly empty, fires all burning low at the late hour.    
  
Josephine had just excused herself to finish up some paperwork before bed- Lavellan had bid her a fond goodnight, insisting she not stay up much longer and overtax herself. The elf, however, had only just heard the ambassador’s door click closed behind her before a distraught howl echoed through the night.  
  
” _Not **my** desk too, you heathens!” _

**Author's Note:**

> drop me a line or say hello at serahcullen.tumblr.com !


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